


Make Me Beautiful

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A suddenly slip drags the Joker back to the night he was birthed, and the moment he knew he was in love with Batman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyVandaele](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LadyVandaele).



> A request from LadyVandaele on tumblr <3 She wanted the Joker reminiscing about how his fall into the chemical solidified his love for the Bat. It spiraled into this...  
> I don't work with red hood a lot...yet. I had to reference The Killing Joker just to make sure I had it right in my head, and then I went and twisted it anyway. I also, for once, went with the New 52 rendition of Batman and Joker, because I know she's a fan :)

His head jerked back as Batman’s fist collided with his jaw. He stumbled back, pressed to the railing of the bridge, and laughed the pain off. He cracked his neck, reached up the adjust the mask of flesh that had begun to slouch, peering out with two pinpoint eyes of green.

“Love it when you play rough, Batsss,” he said, just in time to get a punch to his stomach. He doubled over, clutching his belly, seeming as if he was done. Batman relaxed his stance, reached out to grab him, when those spider like hands grabbed his arm and spun them around, throwing Batman against the bridge. He pressed against his back, breathed in the scent of the city in his cape, and reached around, dragging a finger down Batman’s chest.

“Ah ah ah, didn’t think I was done yet, _did ya Bats_?” He pressed closer, until his body curved perfectly against the Bat’s, his other hand brandishing a knife and dragged it up along Batman’s jawline. “Sit tight sweetiepie, and I won’t open your throat wide.”

“You wouldn’t anyway,” Batman said through gritted teeth, and the Joker just laughed. He dragged the knife down carefully, tapped it against Batman’s chest, and the Bat jerked back against it, made him stumble. He turned, grabbed him, went to slam him against the railing, when it jostled loose. Instead of the Joker stopping, he kept going over the ledge of the bridge. The force threw Batman to the ground, and he nearly toppled over with the Joker. At the last moment he grabbed part of the remaining railing, hooked one of his legs around it, and grunted as his muscles tugged on the arm that held the Joker.

Over the edge the Joker was cackling wildly, swinging slowly to a stop. “Oh Bats!” he called up, “Why sometimes I think you don’t remember our first date, and then you go and recreate it and I just _know_ you care.”

As the wind whistled into his ears and mixed with his laughter, the Joker no longer hung from the edge of the bridge, clinging to the dark knight, but stood in the dimly glowing ACE chemical plant, feet planted firmly on the metal grating of one of the walkways. The world had a red haze to it, foggy now from his panting breaths as he stared at the man in front of him, a beast like shadow, a gargoyle with burning black eyes that just seemed so _beautiful_ and terrifying.

He took a step back as the man drew forward. His body ached from the beating he’d received already, both from this creature and from his own clumsiness in his attempt to escape him. His hands found the railing behind him and he gripped it, nearly shaking as the man strode towards him.

“Please stop-“ he started, pressing further back to the bar. Under his slight weight it normally would have held fine, but rusted at the ends it suddenly slipped free and broke. The man teetered for a second, then slipped, grabbing onto the ledge of the walkway with one hand at the last moment. He hung there, legs swinging, body going numb.

The man beast was moving faster now, rushing to him, throwing himself down and screaming to take his hand, it’d be okay. _It’s all be okay_.

His fingers ached then went numb in a matter of seconds, and he was falling as that hand was reaching down for him, missing his finger tips. He saw through the hazy red as the man watched, and then he was engulfed by a thick liquid, the kind that made the world seem to stand still, like it was held inside Jello-O and he was outside, just poking it.

He hit his head on the side of the vat, and the metal on the hood rang in his ears. He tried to breathe and got lungs filled with the noxious liquid, flailed and saw those eyes sinking down into his hood. Such beauty in them, if he was going to die- drown, or burn up as his skin began to tingle, to burn- he was okay with those being the last thing he saw. Black as night, black as a Bat’s fur, black as fresh tar under the hot sun.

He tossed and turned, reached up through the murk for that hand as if it was still there, his chest tightening. No, no he didn’t want to go like this. No, it wasn’t okay, even if those eyes were the last, he wanted to see them again, wanted to feel them burn holes into him, let them undress him down to his very _bones_.

When he emerged, crawled through the muck, he couldn’t tell where he was. He gripped the hood and yanked it off, tossing it aside and gasping in breathes of the cold air. It stung his lungs, made his insides hurt in a way he’d never known. He cried out, crumbled down from his hands and knees to lie in the mud and smelled the scent of chemical decay.

When his eyes fluttered shut he saw those eyes, and they cooled the burn in his skin. He forced himself up to his knees again, to stand on shaky legs. He stumbled around, made it a few feet before he collapsed again, just missing landing on an old rear view mirror that must have been tossed here weeks ago, easily. He reached for it, wasn’t sure why, but something was telling him to look, _to see what those eyes saw_.

The face that stared back wasn’t his. His skin was bleach white, devoid of all color, while his lips were a sickening red, the kind that looked like that could smack wet with blood. His hair was wet, a tussled mess, but it looked a deep forest, shades darker than what it would be when it dried. He reached out, traced the reflection of his lips, wondered if this was all just some sort of make-over, like he needed to change so he could fit the ideal criteria behind those black eyes.

Yes, that was it. That was it. He needed to be _beautiful_. He needed to be perfect for the gargoyle, the creature of nightmares, the monster from under his bed. And the boogeyman couldn’t have any old boring Joe, he needed someone different, someone with a spark. His skin so white would be perfect against that black, like a bride’s wedding dress to her groom. His hair a dash of color, to remind the man-bat that there was indeed color in life, yes, something to draw his eyes to, to keep those black orbs entranced and unmoving.

And his lips! Why, they had to be the most important of all! Yes yes yes, he was so sure, red and luscious, they called out to be bruised and swollen, assaulted in such brutally sweet ways. But they could be prettier, he knew. Everything could be prettier-

If he just smiled.

He grinned then, a sick, twisted sort that said he was after the devious and not the divine. He saw the way his face lit up and started laughing, unable to stop. Oh, yes, how beautiful. He understood now, the way women tore themselves up and sewed themselves back together for this, the way they became their own designer Frankensteins in order to stay appealing.

_Ah, yes, the pains of love!_

“Hold on Joker!” Batman called down, bringing the clown back to the present. Suddenly the wind whipped in his ears again and he felt Batman clutching his hand, stared up at the sky and the way the man half dangled over the bridge.

“You caught me this time, darling!” He cooed up, followed by a laugh, and Batman tried to pull himself up while clinging to the man’s hand. With just his one arm and leg holding them though, it was no use, and his hand slipped. Batman lost his hold on the railing and for a moment dangled by his foot, before that slipped free and the two pummeled toward the water below.

Batman dragged the Joker to his chest, shielding him, and in the fall the man grinned and wrapped his arms around the vigilante’s neck, pressing his face close and finally taking his prize, the prize he had gone through so much _burning pain for_ years ago.

His mouth felt alien on Batman’s- his lips just pockets of flesh that moved awkwardly, no longer attached to muscle. It churned Batman’s stomach, and he opened his mouth to breathe and a tongue darted inside, taking a taste just as their bodies collided with the water below and then pummeled down into the depths. Batman fought against the pull downwards, held the Joker tight in his arms and tried to kick towards the surface. His body ached from the impact, but he barely noticed, distracted by the Joker’s tongue that, despite the water, had darted out trace his lips one last time.

When they broke the surface the Joker’s gasped breaths turned into giggles, to a full fit of laughter, as Batman coughed up the water that had tried to invade his lungs.

“Ah Bats,” he said, “This has been quite the date! Should have let me strip first, skinny dipping is ah, _way_ more fun.”

“Shut up,” he growled, “Can you move? Let’s get to shore before-“

He was cut when the Joker grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again. Batman tried to jerk his head back, away, but the Joker’s grip was iron, and he only loosened it enough for the ricochet the force Batman’s mouth closer. His tongue traced the part of his lips, flicked playfully, and Batman yielded more from shock than anything else. Now that he wasn’t free falling, he could take in the difference of that mouth, the feeling of lips that slid around instead of being firmly in place, the slick tongue that was oddly not sickening, nimble and knowing.

“Mmmm,” the Joker moaned against Batman’s mouth before pulling back, “now if you’d just kissed me like that on our first date, I’d have been the Bat Queen without putting up a fight at all!”

“Shut up,” Batman grumbled again, but his heart wasn’t in it. The Joker laughed and threw his arm around Batman’s shoulders, treading water with him and purposefully bumping their thighs together from time to time.

“It’s true darling!” the Joker said, leaning his forehead against the Bat’s. “Why, I was falling for you before I ever fell. I was drowning in you before I ever ran out of air. I was in love with you before you were the king, lambchop. I was in love with you before those chemicals ever got into my veins.” His pupils were blown by the time his words ended, and in that moment, Batman didn’t doubt a single word from his broken mouth.


End file.
